Cracks
by Claire Darcy
Summary: Their newest patient has House remembering things he'd tried so hard to forget. Cameron confronts him about their future, and helps him overcome his past.
1. Their Meeting

"Dr. House."

Gregory House's eyes shot open, burning from the light pouring in through the windows of exam room three.

"I didn't know you snored," an amused Dr. Cameron said, the tiniest hint of a smirk forming on her lips. She stood by the door, her back pressed against the wall.

"This better be important," he grumbled huskily. "You interrupted my all-important nap." He placed a tired hand over his eyes, willing the darkness to swallow him again.

"We found a case for you."

"If it's the guy with the huge growth on his eyelid, I'm not interested." Cameron shook her head slightly, opening the file she held in her hand.

"34 year-old female came in with a fever of 102.6 and rising. She also has a severe headache and slight delirium."

"_Slight_?" House snorted, lifting his hand to eye her skeptically. "What, is she seeing purple elephants flying above her?"

"No, but she's been referring to Foreman and Chase as 'Lord and Lady Pomperton.' Bet you can guess which is which." House sat up quickly, keeping his gaze on Cameron.

"How old did you say she was?" House asked seriously, ignoring Cameron's failing attempt at an insult to Chase. Judging by the frown his face had fallen into; Cameron knew she had him hooked.

"34. Birthday is…" Cameron flipped through the pages of the file for the date. "March 3rd, 1972." House ground his teeth in thought before continuing.

"Name?"

"Emily Baden." House's frown etched even deeper into his face.

"Get the team together, we got ourselves a case."

* * *

As they entered the conference room, Foreman was busying himself over the coffeemaker, while Chase was chewing on a pen, engrossed in his crossword puzzle. 

"He's gonna take it," Cameron said. House stopped just inside the door and glowered at a nearby chair.

"'Lady Pomperton,'" House said, pointing his cane at Chase. "What's the girl's temperature at?" Chase rolled his eyes, and slowly took the pen from his mouth.

"Last time I checked it was up to one-oh-three," Chase replied, his eyes still on the crossword. He stuck the pen back in his mouth, chewing intently. House flicked his eyes over the three doctors, his annoyance growing.

"So, what are you still doing here?" he barked. Chase groaned and dropped the pen and newspaper to the table and made for the door, closely followed by Foreman and a smug looking Cameron. "Don't look so pleased with yourself," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Your ego won't fit through the door." With a final quick glare, he pushed past her towards his office.

House eased himself into the chair behind his desk, searching the mess in front of him for his I-pod. Once it had been located, he placed the headphones over his ears and turned on something soft and soothing. He had just started to think about their newest patient when the office door swung open. House lifted his eyes to meet Wilson's. Sighing heavily, House removed the headphones, delicately setting the I-pod back on the desk.

"Who _are_ you?" Wilson said slowly, sinking into the easy chair opposite House.

"An incredibly brilliant doctor," House replied matter-of-factly.

"You took that girl's case." Wilson fixed his eyes on something below House's head, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"And?" House prompted. Wilson closed his eyes, shaking his head gently.

"She probably just has pneumonia. What is so exciting about pneumonia for the brilliant Doctor Gregory House?" He chanced a look at House, who had taken to bouncing his cane between his knees. "You don't take trivial cases. Not unless Vogler is forcing you. But he's gone…So what is it….Do you know her?" The cane stopped suddenly, and the resulting silence was deafening.

"No," House said finally. He let out a breath, bringing a hand to his eyes. "Not anymore." Wilson's eyes widened at this, but had no time to question, as House's pager started beeping impatiently. Squeezing his eyes tight, House reached for the bit of plastic. He eyed it disinterestedly, the frown returning to his features.

"What is it?"

"I have to go," House said, standing as quickly as he could. He waved his hand at his friend, motioning him to follow. "Come on." Wilson watched House for a few steps before he stood and went after him.

Cameron and Chase stood over the woman, anxious looks plastered on both their faces. Emily's chestnut hair was splayed all over her pillow, her face twisted with pain. She scratched absently at her arm.

"What's wrong?" House asked as he came through the door. Emily forced her eyes open to stare at the visitor.

"Her fever just reached 103.7, and she's got a rash, all over her body," Cameron said worriedly, glancing at House. She reached over to Emily, lifting the blankets to reveal an angry red rash covering her skin. House stepped forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Does it itch?" He asked, remembering her scratching. Emily shrugged slightly, and turned on her side, her back to the doctors.

"She's pretty out of it," Chase half-whispered.

"Did you get an MRI?"

"We can't," Cameron said, opening the file again. "Says here she's got three surgical pins in her skull." House ran his fingers through his hair, smiling softly.

"Well, make her comfortable," he said suddenly, turning to leave. "And find her some damn calamine lotion." He walked past Wilson, who had been watching on in both confusion and amusement. House shot him an intense glare, to which Wilson only held up his hands in surrender.

"I didn't say _anything_!" He said, the smile on his face not helping his argument any.

"Don't you have a dying person to look after?" House spat. He limped down the hallway, leaving Wilson standing dumbly behind him.

"She has your eyes," he whispered.


	2. The Dinner

House limped sulkily from his bedroom, having changed into his sweats and a t-shirt. He had gone home early, tired of hiding from Wilson in the clinic. After the initial meeting with his newest patient, Wilson had pestered him the rest of the day for answers. But as open as he was with Wilson, House could not talk about Emily Baden. Not yet.

Pouring himself a glass of scotch, House sat down at the piano. His hands started lightly roaming over the keys, sounding out the melody of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. His thoughts traveled as smoothly as the notes, flying back some hours earlier. The first look Emily had given him had been etched in his mind; it was almost as though she knew she had seen him before, but couldn't quite place it. He had known, of course, that she wouldn't be able to remember him. But there was still a pang of disappointment and hurt that struck him every time her face passed through his mind.

House's fingers skidded slightly at the hollow knocking coming from the front door.

"I know that knock!" he called, the annoyance sinking in. Wilson just wouldn't give up. "I'm not going to tell you, Wilson. So go home to your wife!" His fingers continued gliding efficiently over the keys and the knocking came to a stop. As he pounded out the final chords, though, the knocking started again, just as persistently. He swore silently, hoisted himself up, and limped towards the door, popping a couple of vicodin. For dramatic purposes, he opened it slowly, and was surprised to find a pink-faced Cameron blinking up at him.

"That sounded beautiful," she breathed, nodding at the piano. She rubbed a gloved hand over her nose, trying to get the circulation going again. Seeing this, House stood aside, letting her step into the heat.

"Is there something you needed?" House asked unsurely, clicking the door shut behind her. He turned to see her shedding her heavy jacket and gloves. Shaking her head, she wandered over to the piano, lightly fingering the keys. House got a jolt, watching her make herself at home like that.

"I just wanted to see if you were alright," she explained, turning to face him. "You disappeared on us. We were worried."

"You mean _you_ were worried," he corrected. She turned back to the piano, but he caught her sheepish smile. Scratching uncomfortably at the back of his neck, he came forward and settled back on the couch.

"How long have you been playing?" Cameron asked.

"I started lessons when I was nine." House cleared his throat uneasily. "The teacher refused to see me again after my seventh day. Claimed I was hopeless. So, I taught myself, just to spite her." He chuckled at the memory.

"Well, you are incredible at it." She gently pressed down on one of the keys, breaking the momentary silence. "Why are you so interested in Emily's case?" She asked nonchalantly, sitting on the piano bench.

"Not you, too," House groaned. "If I tell you that it was the delirium that got me, will you leave it be?" Cameron thought about it seriously for a few moments before meeting his eyes.

"It's really that bad?" She pulled her feet up on the bench, drawing her knees close.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

"Obviously." They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, keeping their eyes away from each other. "Play me something?" Cameron finally asked.

"No free concerts." House stood up and moved closed to her. She slid her feet to the floor, making room for him on the piano bench. "So what are you going to give me?"

"How about…you play me _one_ song and…I will make you dinner."

"Dinner?" he asked as he shifted uncomfortably. "Cameron, I don't think…"

"Oh, House," she said, whacking him on the arm. "It's harmless. One person cooking for another. I'm not asking you to act all sweet and pretend that you _enjoy_ it." House winced, and peered into her enchanting blue eyes.

"I wouldn't have to pretend…" he offered. The corners of her mouth turned up so slightly, that it might have been easy to miss if House hadn't known her so well.

"Just play me something."

He obliged then, his fingers expertly belting out some Chopin. Her eyes slipped shut as she began to sway along with the music. House glanced at her out of the corner of his eye every few moments, just to see if she was accepting his playing. Luckily, the look that had spread over her face was one of true appreciation.

"Amazing," she whispered as he finished. His hands remained frozen on the keys as he floated back into reality. It was then he realized the hand squeezing his shoulder gently. Cameron's eyes eventually flickered open and she, too, noticed her hand's betrayal. Blushing, she hastily removed it to her lap.

"So what's for dinner?" he asked gruffly.

Cameron smiled and told him to stay put. She hurried to his kitchen, and began rummaging through his cupboards. He went back to playing, something more modern this time, enjoying the smells and sounds that were filling his apartment. She didn't comeback into the living room, but he saw her go to his dining table and clear it off. It made him smile, seeing her setting out the plates and silverware in a way he hadn't seen or done since Stacey. 'No,' he thought. 'This is Cameron. Forget about Stacey. It's Cameron that's still with you.'

"Come and get it!" Cameron called, setting two Rueben sandwiches on the table. She went back in the kitchen as he stepped over. "No pickles." She returned carrying two cans of Coke and a bag of potato chips.

"This looks incredible," he said earnestly. He sat down, hesitating only a moment before taking a wary bite. His face took on an expression of pure delight. "Are you sure you picked the right profession?"

"A lifetime making sandwiches for starving cripples?" she said sarcastically, ignoring the nearly offended look House was giving her. "Yeah, how could I have chosen a medical career over _that_?" They chewed in welcome silence for a few more moments, until Cameron made another attempt at conversation.

"So you won't tell me why you're so interested in Emily Baden…"

"Don't go there, Cameron," he said edgily. "It's something that has nothing to do with you. Something that does not need to be drudged up." She fixed her eyes on her sandwich and set to picking off bits to stuff in her mouth. "I'm sorry. You wouldn't know why it's so hard for me to…"

"No, it's fine. Really. I don't need to know."

"But you _want_ to. I understand. It's just your curiosity. Cameron, you have to know that some things…" He stopped, setting the sandwich on the plate. "Some wounds are not meant to be opened. It could…it might result in even more pain than when they were created."

The finished their sandwiches in complete quiet, ignoring each other as well as they could manage. When they'd finished, Cameron gathered the plates and brought them to the dishwasher. She stood silently by the table, thinking of what to say or do to fix this mess. But all she could do was pull on her coat and gloves and leave.

"I'm sorry, House," she said quietly. He closed his eyes; the brief burst of cold air the only proof of her leaving.


	3. The Diagnosis

Her words had played over and over in his mind since she'd left; the almost hurt tone of her voice haunting him in his sleep. House knew he couldn't avoid the subject of Emily forever, but he still couldn't bring himself to think about his past just yet.

He had come in to work the next morning extremely early, for him. It was, of course, his plan for avoiding Wilson or Cameron until he could get himself locked up in his office with the blinds drawn. He got as far as the elevator before Cuddy spotted him. House groaned loudly, desperately thinking of an insult as she came to join him in the elevator.

"Good morning, Dr. House," she said cheerily. By the look on her face, House figured that she thought he had had a major personality change since yesterday what with being _early_ to work.

"Dr. Cuddy…" Damn. His wit was failing him. "…Good morning." Cuddy glanced up at him, shocked at the words coming from Gregory House.

"Are you alright?" She asked suspiciously. House nodded slightly, holding his breath to ward off any other 'nice' comments. "Wilson was in to see me yesterday."

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped. That was more like House, Cuddy thought.

"Of course you don't. But when you do…" she gave him a look as the doors opened with a ding. "…You have plenty of people who are willing to listen." House glared at her before stepping briskly from the elevator.

To his great relief, the conference room was dark and empty. He limped into his office, pulling the blinds shut before he set his bag down. His plan was to sit brooding in his office all day with his I-pod. But as he reached his desk, something hit him, settling into his stomach like a lead weight. Gripping his cane, House turned and left his office, heading for Emily's hospital room. Although the room was dark, he could see she was awake. He glanced around him before sliding the door open and stepping inside. He looked at her; small and pale, save for the large red bumps that had overtaken her skin, scratching fiercely at the inside of her elbow.

"Don't do that," he said gruffly. Emily stopped only for a moment, glaring up at him.

"But it _itches_," she growled, throwing her arms in the air. "My whole body itches and you haven't done anything!" House sat in the chair beside her bed as she wiped away a tear. It was a moment before he could find his voice.

"You don't remember me do you?" he asked sadly.

"Sure. You're that doctor; the one that nobody likes." A small fleeting smile formed on House lips, disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Can you tell me how you cracked your skull? How you got those pins?" Emily looked at him for a minute, a confused look etched into her face.

"When I was about twelve, my brother pushed me out of the tree house in our back yard. Fractured my skull and I was in the hospital for a few weeks. He was a lot nicer to me after that." She smiled faintly, before she reached up and scratched her cheek.

"You're sure that's what happened?" House asked. The smile left and she nodded. "Well, thank you." House closed his eyes as he stood up. He slid the door open and stepped back out, and nearly screamed when he saw his three ducklings staring at him. Foreman was the first to get his jaw off the floor.

"Bonding?" He asked.

"Go away," he barked at them. He took two steps before he stopped and turned to them. "And get her started on Acyclovir. Soon." Cameron shook her head in confusion.

"But that's the treatment for chickenpox," she said slowly.

"Yes," House replied. "Which is what she has. And none of you got her the calamine lotion." With a final glare, he left them and hurried to his office. But the three doctors were not satisfied with his diagnosis. They followed him into his office, waiting until he was seated behind his desk before speaking.

"Wouldn't she know if she's had chickenpox before?" Chase asked.

"Look, I gave you the diagnosis and the treatment. What else do you need?"

"We'd just like to know _why_ you're so sure it's chickenpox. Chase is right, she's probably had the disease before." Foreman looked at House skeptically.

"If she can't remember how she fractured her skull, chances are she's not going to remember having the chickenpox." His team's jaws once again fell to the floor.

"How do you-" Cameron started.

"She told me that when she was twelve her brother pushed her out of their tree house." Foreman tilted his head, prompting House to explain. "Well, that's not what happened."

"You're expecting us to believe _that_?" Foreman exclaimed.

"Get her started on the Acyclovir," House ordered. "When she gets better you can believe me."

* * *

Emily had been started on the medication, not to mention slathered head to toe in calamine lotion. Within days the itching subsided, and her fever was falling. Usually, everyone would be congratualting House on his brilliance. But the mystery of how he had managed to solve this one hung in the air, waiting to be solved. 


	4. Remembering

"So, you have some mysterious power that allows you to see into people's pasts," Wilson mused, stepping into House's office.

"Go away Wilson," House said sulkily. His team had decided to leave him alone about Emily's recovery and had gone on to start another case without him. Wilson, it seemed, had nothing better to do except pester him until he cracked.

"Honestly House. You have to understand the curiosity we're all feeling. I mean you don't just _guess _that someone has forgotten some big chunk of their life. You knew. Care to tell me how?" Wilson stared at him, a mischievous smirk forming in his face.

"No."

"House," Wilson said, softer this time. "I don't know how everyone else has missed it, but I look at that girl and I see your female replica lying in that bed." House shifted in his chair, uncomfortable under his friend's gaze. "Who is she, House?"

"Wilson," House said tetchily. "Just leave it." Wilson nodded. He knew when he had been defeated.

"Alright. But you can't avoid it forever." He left House in his darkness to think of his next move. He had to get Emily to remember. Now that she was here, now that he had seen her... they both needed to remember. House tapped his fingers on the desk for a minute before he reached for the phone. Hands shaking, he dialed the number for the hospital psychiatrist. He mumbled a few requests and hung up. Glancing into the adjoining conference room, he stood and headed back to Emily's hospital room. He stood outside the door waiting for Dr. Newman to show up.

"She's going to be fine," Cameron said softly, coming up beside him.

"It seems that way," he replied. His body had become rigid in her presence, his breaths coming quicker than normal. "She's forgotten so much," he said, almost to himself. "I have to get her to remember." Cameron was about to ask what he meant when Dr. Newman announced his presence.

"Are you ready?" he asked gently. House nodded and made for the door. Remembering Cameron, he stopped.

"I need you to come with," he said. "She's going to need a hand to hold and she sure as hell won't want mine." Cameron smiled reassuringlyand followed him into the room. House moved into the far corner of the room and Dr. Newman situated himself at the foot of the bed, leaving the chair for Cameron. Emily looked around at them nervously but said nothing.

"Ms. Baden," Dr. Newman began. " You claimed to Dr. House that you fractured your skull by a fall from a tree house. You also claim that you have no idea who Dr. House is. Is this true?" Emily nodded, acknowledging that this was the case. Dr. Newman sighed and pulled out a pad of paper from his jacket. "I'm going to have to ask you some questions about your life, family members, etcetera, which may prove uncomfortable. However, I need you to answer them all as best you can. OK, first; can you tell me who Michael Baden is?"

"He's my step-father. He married my mom when I was six." Dr. Newman glanced at House who nodded, confirming her statement.

"Alright." He scribbled something down on his pad before continuing. "And the brother that pushed you out of the tree, what was his name and where is he now?"

"Frank. He's living in California as a computer programmer." Again, Dr. Newman glanced at House, but this time he shook his head. House cleared his throat before speaking.

"Frank…Frank is her father," he said hoarsely. "He's in jail." Dr. Newman's eyes widened as he turned back to the woman in the bed.

"Does this sound familiar?" Emily, though, was no longer listening to him. House had caught her attention with his last words. She sat up, her body shaking slightly, as she processed what she had heard. The room was silent while her brain repaired her memory. As everything came together, the anger on her gaunt face was surprising.

"You son of a bitch," she said vehemently. With shocking agility for a person recovering from a severe case of the chickenpox, she was on her feet and moving across the room towards House. Cameron watched on in terror, while Dr. Newman simply adjusted his glasses and left; his job was finished.

"Emily, listen," House begged meekly.

"No, Greg, _you_ listen. I spent four years of my life in hell while you just stood by doing _nothing_! You knew what he was doing to me." She stopped to catch her breath. When she spoke again, her voice cracked with threatening tears. " How could you let him do that to me? I trusted you." She buried her face in his chest as the sobs came. Cameron took this moment to leave. She had witnessed something that she had not prepared herself for. She didn't go back to the conference room though, rather waited outside the room for House.

"Emily," House whispered. "I'm so sorry." Emily pushed herself away from him, her familiar crystal blue eyes full of hate.

"You abandoned me, Greg. Sorry will never be enough."

* * *

Cameron glanced up as House came from the room, sliding the door shut behind him. He looked at her uneasily, but didn't walk away from her like she'd expected. 

"She remembers," he said weakly. Cameron heard the unsteadiness in his voice and moved closer, placing a hand on his arm.

"Who…who is she?" she asked quietly.

"My sister."


	5. His Story

House hadn't stayed at work. Cameron had vaguely mentioned to Cuddy that something had happened. Naturally, Cuddy was intrigued, but decided to let it go, just this once.

House hadn't gotten any farther than his couch once he got home. Swallowing two vicodin dry, he closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind from the day's event. He had knownEmily would not be too excited to see him, but he had not anticipated the pain it would bring to him. He had abandoned his younger sister, and he had repressed that particular memory for so long that now it seemed a thousand times worse.

His thoughts were broken by the tentative knock coming from the front door. No, he thought. He was too tired to deal with her now. But the knocking continued, growing louder with every second.

"House," Cameron called. "Please. I can see your light on." Rolling his eyes, he eased himself up and limped over to the door.

"What, Cameron?" He asked dully, as he pulled open the door.

"I thought _you_ could use a hand to hold," she said. He stood aside to let her in. "Are you doing OK?" she asked as she walked past him. She immediately regretted the words, but he didn't get sarcastic or upset. "Well, I mean…considering…"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired." He placed his hand on the wall, as though supporting himself. Cameron sat on his couch, patting the seat beside her.

"Come sit. You look like hell." The smile was quick, but Cameron caught it. She needed to get him distracted, get his thoughts away from the hospital. House came closer and sat gingerly beside her. "Do you…want to talk?" He shook his head, turning to look away from her. After a few moments, he spoke.

"She was nine, when I found out that our dad had been sexually abusing her." His voice was rocky and quiet. "I didn't tell anyone. I…" his voice cracked, but he made himself continue. "I knew what my father was capable of. If he found out…She called me one day and I could hear the despair in her voice. That night I called the police. When they knocked on his door...He literally smashed her head in. That's how she got the pins. My father was sentenced to life in prison. But I was four years too late. Emily…Somehow she had blocked out that part of her life. She'll never forgive me." Cameron had slid closer to him and had her arm resting on his back.

"She will," she whispered. House shuddered underneath her, letting out a long shaky breath.

"You don't know that. In fact, I know she won't. How could she?" Cameron decided to not argue. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. He tensed but didn't pull away. "Everyone's right. I am an ass." He pulled away enough to glance into her eyes. "Why are you doing this for me? I'm an ass, remember? I am so…" he sighed. "…Mean." That got a chuckle from her.

"You are not mean. You're just…" He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Well, you're yourself."

"Comforting," he said.

Cameron smiled sadly, lifting her hand to trace along his jaw. House was so perfect, just as he was, and it frustrated her that he couldn't see it. His quick wit amazed her; she never knew the right things to say. And his I-don't-give-a-damn spirit made her in absolute awe of him. Why couldn't he see this?

House shifted beneath her touch, making Cameron drop her hand. She peered into his eyes for a minute and before she could stop herself her lips were on his. The kiss was soft and quick, but it left them both breathless. House had closed his eyes and kissed her back, and when it was over, blinked a few times, trying to figure out what had happened.

"'A hand to hold?"' he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Sure," she breathed, pulling away. "Let's stick with that."

* * *

House woke up the next morning, Cameron at his side. He lifted a hand to his face, unable to believe what he had gotten himself into. She shifted, her eyes flickering open.

"Morning," she whispered. He attempted to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. Cameron smiled sadly and rolled away from him. House closed his eyes again, and willed himself to be nice. Reaching out his left hand, he pulled her back to him. He felt her smile against his chest.

"We should get going…work," He said groggily. She nodded but didn't move.

"You're going in?" She asked delicately.

"I was planning on it. I, unfortunately, cannot take the week off to mourn the loss of my pride." He chuckled to himself. He nudged her off, sat up and reached for his cane. His leg was giving him hell, but he was not about to show it. Palming the bottle of vicodin, he limped into his bathroom. He let the water in the shower run, but never stepped in. Staring at himself in the mirror, he tried to figure out his best strategy. He had gotten into something with Cameron; something that would not kindly curl up and hide, unnoticed by anyone. A kiss was not going to go unnoticed by Cameron. She was going to make it out to be something it wasn't, he was sure of it.

Shutting off the water, House went back to his bedroom. Cameron was gone, but the bed had been made, so he couldn't forget she had been there. Following the smell of coffee, he found her in the kitchen, making breakfast.

"You're…cooking," he said, watching her in disbelief. She looked up at him and smiled unsurely.

"Yeah. Is that all right?" House simply nodded his head and continued down the hall to the living room. He stared at the TV though there was nothing there. Cameron came into the room with a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon.

"I have to go," she said, as he looked dumbly at his plate. Slowly her words registered in his brain and he stopped her just before she shut the door behind her.

"Leave? You made me breakfast and then you leave?" She poked her head back in the door to glance at him.

"Yeah." She shrugged and shut the door leaving House to poke at his food for an hour before tossing it in the trash.

She's getting to you, he thought. This could get very very bad.


	6. Lasagna

Coffee. He needed coffee.

House stuck his head into the conference room, making sure it was empty. When all was clear, he hobbled in and made straight for the coffee pot.

"My coffee not good enough for you?" Cameron asked lightly from behind him. House set down his mug and turned to face her. He couldn't tell her that he hadn't eaten any of her food; because even for House, sounding that ungrateful was not an option. Cameron smiled as she watched the internal war raging inside him, shuffling to her desk.

"About last night…" House said, his body becoming completely rigid.

"My lips are sealed," she replied. She didn't look at him while she unpacked her laptop and got herself ready for the day.

"Right. Well…" He grabbed his coffee and went past her into his office. "Check on Emily. She's going to be discharged in a few days, but we want to keep her healthy until then." Cameron stopped moving, his words replaying in her head.

"You aren't going to?" she asked. She heard House coming back before he appeared at the doorway.

"Cameron, you were in that room yesterday. You can't honestly think that Emily is going to want _me_ treating her." He blinked and smiled as he thought of something. "In fact I wouldn't be too surprised if she got sick again, just to spite my diagnosis." Cameron opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock on the glass door. They both glanced up, mildly surprised to see Wilson with his hand poised for another knock, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He opened one tentatively, checking to make sure he wasn't walking in on anything. Relaxing, he pulled the door open and entered the room.

"So-" He started curtly.

"Don't even," House warned him. Wilson glared at his friend, but instead of achieving the desired effect of frightening him, merely made House want to pee his pants laughing.

"House," he continued, ignoring the grins that had erupted on House and Cameron's faces. "The whole hospital knows something went on between you and your patient yesterday. But apparently Dr. Cameron is the only one who knows what." His gaze turned on Cameron, whose face flushed bright.

"_Cameron_ is not going to say a word," House mumbled, giving her a look. She nodded in agreement and went to work on her computer, silently praying to be left out of this conversation. House got her subtle hint and backed into his office, closely followed by Wilson. Wilson sat in the easy chair by the door, and kept his eye on House as he sat behind his desk.

"You're going to have to tell me sooner or later," Wilson informed him. House locked his gaze on his cane, which was precariously perched on the corner of his desk.

"Do you remember," House spoke softly, barely loud enough for Wilson to hear. "When I told you about my father. Why he was in jail?" Wilson screwed his face up in thought.

"Yeah," he said slowly, as though the memory was still coming to him. "It had something to do with your sister, one I'd never-" That was when it hit him. His expression changed from astonishment to happiness before settling to utter shock. "Emily Baden is your _sister_?" House shifted uneasily, which was enough of an answer for Wilson. "I take it she didn't take to meeting you too well. Are you going to do anything?"

"What can I do? She made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me." Wilson shrugged his shoulders, getting to his feet to leave.

"Really, all you can do is show how sorry you are. Show her how miserable it's made you."

He went back into the conference room to say a few words to Cameron before disappearing, leaving House to think.

* * *

The glowing red numbers on the clock blurred as House stared at it. 6:45. What was he still doing here? It was Friday night. He should be down at a bar with Wilson, relieving the stresses of the week. But as he sat in his office, all he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

He glanced up as the lights in the conference room shut off. Cameron was standing in the doorway that adjoined the two rooms, regarding him intently. Reaching for his cane, he stood up and walked closer, stopping just a foot or so in front of her.

"Do you…" he began. His voice was rocky. He hadn't used it much that day. "Would you like some dinner?" Oh hell.

Cameron smiled at his attempt though, and nodded as she hitched her bag up on her shoulder.

"Like right now?"

"If…if you aren't busy."

"Nope. I just have to run home quick and change, but I can be by your place around 7:30."

"Great," House said, forcing a smile. Cameron shook her head, silently laughing to herself as she turned and walked out of the conference room.

House sat at his piano twenty minutes later, his fingers positioned over the keys though he didn't play a note. He stared at the nearly full bottle of scotch in front of him, debating whether he should empty it a little bit. He could hardly believe his bold move of asking Cameron over for dinner. Not only because had he been trying to forget what had happened between them, but also because he had no idea what to fix for her. Since he had been living alone, he had specialized in dialing the take-out number. But he had a strange urge to impress Cameron and cook for her.

Dropping his arms to his sides House pushed himself up and went into the kitchen. On his way home from work he had stopped by the grocery store around the corner and picked up a few things for lasagna. He hadn't actually made his lasagna since he was with Stacey, but she'd always said how great it tasted. He really hoped she wasn't just being nice. He had put the noodles, meat, cheese, and sauce together as soon as he got home and had gotten it right into the oven. Now as it cooked, he could smell the thick, delicious aroma filling the apartment. He pulled out a second pan and poured in some frozen veggies to cook over the stove. As their dinner finished cooking, he limped into his 'dining room' to set the table, exactly as Cameron had done a few nights before. After a short two-minute battle with himself, he brought two candles from the hall closet and set them between the two plates. There, he thought. Possibly the most disgustingly romantic display he could have come up with.

Cameron rapped on his door at exactly 7:30. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a simple t-shirt, but she looked beautiful just the same. House ushered her in and had her sit on the couch. She slid off her jacket as she glanced at the perfectly set table.

"It's beautiful," she said pointing at the table as House handed her a glass of wine. He cleared his throat but didn't speak. Cameron knew he was probably rethinking his offer, but she couldn't help follow him back into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter as he pulled the lasagna from the oven, cut out two huge pieces, and placed them on the plates. Cameron closed her eyes, just breathing in the smells he had created.

"Come on, no sleeping yet," House said lowly, nudging her with his elbow. She smiled and went to sit at the table, staring hungrily at the lasagna before her.

"Did you make this yourself or is this one of those frozen deals?" she asked playfully, poking it with her fork.

"I can cook," he replied, feigning offense. "Though the vegetables were frozen at one point…" Cameron laughed and stuffed a bite of the pasta into her mouth. House smiled, pleased with himself, when her eyes grew in shock.

"This is incredible," she said, chewing slowly. "Did _you_ pick the right profession?" House smiled wider, taking a bite of his own. They ate in silence, save for Cameron's sounds of delight at the tastes in her mouth. When they had finished, it was House that got up and cleared the table, leaving Cameron to sip her wine. She got up slowly and went to sit on the couch, tucking her legs under her. Happiness flooded her when she thought about where she was. Never did she think she would ever be having a home cooked meal with Gregory House, and yet here she was, relaxing on his couch after the best meal she'd had in years.

"You'll want to eat this soon," House said, placing a plate ofchocolate cake under her nose. "That lasagna has a way of making you drowsy."

"What, did you lace it with valium?" Cameron joked, taking the plate.

"No. It's the turkey. Gets you every time." Cameron smiled and took a bite of the chocolatey goodness. As she had expected, it was as delicious as the lasagna. House, it seemed, had a secret talent.

House kept his eyes on the chocolate, but Cameron was watching him chew, a small smile growing on her lips. She was trying to decide if she should kiss him again as House's pager went off. They looked at each other in alarm; they knew no one would page him this late unless it was absolutely necessary. House set his plate down on the coffee table and reached for the beeping interruption.

"Shit!" he hissed. He got up and hurried for his room to find some shoes. Setting her plate by House's she caught a glimpse of his pager. It had a single word flashing across the screen:

'Emily.'


	7. His Fear

Chase met them at the doors of PPTH, too upset to be bothered with questions such as why they had arrived together. He scratched the back of his neck nervously as he related to them the events of the evening.

"I swear to God, House I…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," House said agitatedly. "Can you get on to the scary part?" Chase resisted rolling his eyes and continued.

"She was going to be discharged in the morning and when he showed up…I honestly thought you knew. But when Wilson told me…Oh God." Chase brought his hands for his face and tried to concentrate on breathing. House stared at him anxiously, the grip on his cane tightening.

"_Who_ showed up, Chase?" he said very slowly. "Who picked her up?" Chase's hands slid down his face and when he spoke his words were almost inaudible.

"Her father."

House's fear hit him like a lightening bolt. He decided it would be better not to shoot Chase just yet; he could possibly be used on the search party. Without a word, he shoved Chase out of the way and stormed up to his office, disrupting the quiet chatter of the night staff. He was dialing 911 when Cameron came in and stood by the door, silently waiting for him to finish. She came over to him as he set the phone back and wrapped her arms around his waist. He buried his face in his hair and she thought she could hear his quiet tears.

"Wilson has been out looking for her since quarter to eight," she whispered. "He's going to find her, Greg, I promise." House nodded, desperately wanting to believe her. His heart was pounding against her cheek and she knew he was terrified.

"I've lost her again," he choked out. Cameron's heart broke at this. House had always been so strong; never letting anything upset him enough for him to show emotion. But all it took was his sister's safety to be threatened and he was frightened like a little boy.

House breathed the clean scent of Cameron's shampoo. He couldn't believe he was surprised that Chase would release a patient without House's consent. Granted, this was Chase, and he had no idea that Emily was his sister, but no self-respecting doctor would knowingly go against House's instructions. House was frightened. That was what it came down to. Somehow,his father had gotten out of jail, and he had gone straight for Emily. God only knew what he was going to do to her.

House pulled away from Cameron reluctantly, but he had to sit before his legs collapsed. His mind was racing with scenarios; he was sure Wilson would find his sister, but in what condition? He didn't look up when Cameron held a mug of coffee under his nose, waving it around enticingly.

"At least get some caffeine in you," she said lightly. "That lasagna can make you pretty drowsy." She imagined she saw a tiny smirk as he reached out and took the cup.

"He's going to find her," he whispered, trying to convince himself. "He will." Cameron kneeled down beside him, running her fingers through his hair. She knew she should say something to comfort him, to remove the fear from his eyes, but no words came to mind.

"Greg?" House glanced up to see Cuddy at the doorway. If her pale face and general disheveled appearance were any clues, she was nearly as upset as House. "Wilson found her." Her voice was soft, but it came to House through a loudspeaker. A relieved smile erupted on his face as he pulled away from Cameron. Seeming to have forgotten the two women in the room, House hobbled as quickly as he could down the hall towards her room. Police officers were standing around looking important, and he spotted Wilson against a wall, speaking quickly to one of them. House had never felt so grateful towards another person than he did towards James Wilson at that moment. Trusting that Emily was safe for another minute, he went over to Wilson and swooped him up in a tight hug. Wilson had gone white, staring at the older man in shock.

"You found her," House whispered through his smile. Then his brain informed him of what he was doing and the smile disappeared. He glanced at Wilson then at all the gawking officers, setting his friend back on his feet. His face had taken on a rather dark shade of pink as he tapped his cane anxiously. "I mean…thank you."

"Mr. House?" a beefy officer asked, poking House in the back with a pen.

"_Dr._ House," Wilson corrected.

"Oh...Well, Doctor, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about your sister."

"Can it wait?" House asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'd like to see her first." The officer shrugged and lifted a cup of coffee to his lips. House offered Wilson one last awkward smile before he turned and hurried down the hall to Emily's room.

Emily was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to House, gazing out the window at the rain. The hospital gown she wore left her back bare to him, revealing a long bruise. House winced, imagining his father's first greeting. She was not crying, but every so often, she would let out a heavy breath that shook her shoulders. House chewed on his bottom lip as he sorted out the right words to say.

"He was going to kill me," she said clearly. House stared at her back, unsure of what to do. "He had the knife to my throat." She got off the bed and walked slowly around to him, showing him the faint red line that ran across her neck. "And you know the last thing running through my head? I was thinking about you, Greg. I was thinking how awful you would feel when you found out. You knowing that it had been your fault. And for a second, I wanted him to do it." He closed his eyes as she took the last steps towards him. "I _wanted_ to die. To make to suffer, like you'd done to me." She pressed her hand against his chest making him stumble backwards.

"Emily I-"

"I'm not done!" She shouted through her fresh tears. "I'm not ready to forgive you for what you did. I'm not sure if I ever will be. But now...I really don't want to hate you, Greg. I really don't." She squeezed her eyes trying to keep in the tears. House placed a shaking hand on her back, rubbing gently.

"I... I know,Em," he sighed. "I just want you to know that I am so sorry. I was wrong and…I only hope that someday you'll be able to look at me and see your brother." Deciding against a hug, he patted her quick on the back and left her standing along in the room.

* * *

House leaned back in the seat, stretching his good leg out in front of him. His ass was numb from sitting so long and his leg was burning with pain, but the police officer didn't seem to have any intention of stopping soon. He had jumped on House as soon as he had stepped from Emily's room, and dragged him off to an empty room for questioning. He wanted to know what might have been Frank House's motives for killing Emily. House was forced to retell every aspect of his past, which was made more painful by the officer's unnecessary probing. After about three hours, House yawned loudly and stood to leave.

"Well, I am quite sorry officer," he said with fake sincerity. "But I am afraid that as it is already one in the morning, I have no time left in my schedule for useless questions." The officer didn't look amused, but House left anyway, wondering if Cameron would still be around. He could still hear people talking quietly outside his office, and he prayed that none of the voices belonged to Cuddy. That was just what he needed; a second interrogation. Luckily, though, the only faces he saw were those of Wilson and Cameron.

"How'd it go?" Wilson asked. His eyes were red, suggesting that he'd really enjoy a nap right about then.

"Have you ever been locked in a room for three hours with a porky police officer with a taser?" he asked bitterly.

"Are you ready?" Cameron asked, quickly changing the subject. "I thought you'd like a ride home."

"Yeah," House said, lowering his eyebrows. "That and the fact that if you didn't wait, you'd have no way home." Cameron rolled her eyes, but smiled to admit that this was the case.

"Emily should be fine," Wilson said, interrupting their 'moment.' "But Cuddy suggested we keep her for at least a week for…observation." He chuckled to himself and moved around House toward the elevator. "You're welcome!" he called.

"Well, that was exciting," House said.

"Like straight out of a movie," she replied, rubbing her eyes. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her toward the elevator.

"Come on, we're going to bed." She raised her eyebrows at his words, but didn't say a thing. He managed to get them back to his apartment without any major injuries. Cameron followed him slowly up the walk, unsure if he meant 'going to bed' as in 'going to bed together' or 'go home, Cameron, I'm tired.' The look he gave her while he unlocked the door assured her it was the former and she hurried to get inside. They were both so exhausted from the night's events that they just collapsed on his bed, fully clothed. House stayed awake for another hour, trying to figure out what it was she was doing to him, and if there was any way to stop it.

Though, on second thought, he wasn't so sure he wanted to stop it.


	8. Wilson's Mistake

"Cameron."

"Fgraghal."

"What?" House poked her in the side with his cane. He was already late for work, and Cameron was still sleeping. "Cameron come on, we have work." Cameron grunted, pulling his blankets further over her head. She hadn't left his apartment since Friday night after the incident with Emily. They had spent all of Saturday and Sunday watching made-for-TV movies and eating stale popcorn. Wilson had called him a total of seven times with updates on Emily's condition -stable all weekend. But Wilson suspected House was secretly thankful for them, even though his voice got increasingly pissed off every time he called.

"Cameron," House tried again. "You can't stay home. Especially since I know you aren't sick." He gave her one sharper jab with the cane. "OK, you have made me resort to cruel tortures." Tucking his cane under one arm, he gripped the blankets and pulled them off the bed, exposing a shivering Cameron. She had her knees pulled tight into her chest and her eyes were squeezed shut to keep the light out.

"Away," she mumbled. House smiled; he had gotten her to use actual English, so she'd be up soon. He chuckled softly and limped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He thought about making coffee, but changed his mind when he thought of Saturday morning's pot, which had tasted strangely like mud. Instead he pulled a half-empty jug of orange juice from the fridge and poured it all out between two glasses.

"Monday," Cameron moaned from the doorway. House smirked a little at her apparel; an old band t-shirt of his and a pair of his good wool socks pulled up to her bare knees. She looked so adorable and he couldn't believe she wanted to be with _him._ Angry, rude, old, mean Gregory House. He wasn't interesting or exciting. He couldn't take her for long walks on the beach. She knew that, and yet she wanted to be with him. If only he could stop being so paranoid and just be happy.

Ha. Yeah right.

"You better hurry," he said, handing her one of the glasses. "You need to be at work…" He glanced at his watch, brows lowering. "…Thirty-five minutes ago." Cameron squinted at him while slurping noisily on the juice.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Well I couldn't very well leave you dead to the world in my apartment. Besides," he added, moving closer to her. "Work isn't nearly as interesting without you to berate for fun." He went into the living room, scooping his coat up from the couch. "But now that you're conscious, I think I can trust that you'll be in that conference room no later than ten thirty. Your car is still here, assuming hasn't been towed yet."

"Thank you." House glared at her, unsure of what to say. He tilted his head to her before he stepped out of his apartment and into the chilly October morning.

"You're late," Cuddy barked, right on cue as he entered the hospital.

'She looks tired,' he thought. Her eyes were bloodshot and shadowed by dark circles. She hadn't spent any time on her make-up that morning, and her hair wasn't neatly contained as per usual. She was a mess. House made a mental note to irritate her until she told him what was wrong. Or until she told Wilson who would tell him. Or something to that effect.

"What?" he asked innocently, twirling his cane like a baton in front of him. "I'm not allowed an early morning hooker?" Cuddy glared at him particularly menacingly, before stalking off to her office.

Foreman and Chase were sitting in the conference room bickering like children over something. House barreled noisily into his office, temporarily breaking up their conversation long enough for them to glance up at him. He'd only been staring blankly behind his desk for five minutes before Cameron came (much more gracefully) into the conference room. She took her time unpacking her computer and plugging it in, though she was itching to get House his coffee so that she would have at least two minutes of privacy with him. When she picked up the two steaming red mugs, Foreman lifted an eyebrow at her but said nothing. House didn't need to look up to know who had just entered his office. Cameron set one mug in front of him and sat slowly in the chair in front of him. His eyes locked on the coffee, House tapped his cane a few times before he could find his voice.

"So this weekend…"

"Never happened," Cameron put in, taking a long drink from her mug. House glanced up at her, a small fleck of hurt in his eyes.

"No, I meant…" he sighed, scratching the back of his thumb over his forehead. "It was…fun." Cameron stared at him a moment, unable to believe what he'd said.

"We should do it again…?" Cameron asked. House traced his finger around the rim of his cup.

"Yeah," he replied quietly. Cameron tried to hide the enormous smile that had found its way onto her face and lifted the coffee cup to her lips. "I think we should-" But Cameron didn't get to hear his plan because his pager started beeping shrilly, once again ruining their moment.

"Oh hell," House said, clearly irritated by what the screen was showing. Flashing Cameron an apologetic look, he got up and hobbled out of the room and toward the oncology department.

Wilson wasn't actually in his office when he arrived, but House didn't get called away from Cameron for nothing. He took a seat behind Wilson's desk, opening random drawers, looking for anything interesting. Wilson came in about ten minutes later, breathless and red faced, as if he had run three miles just to get there.

"Sorry," he gasped, shutting the door behind him. House barely blinked as Wilson started throwing things around, apparently searching for something.

"So..." House said over the noise Wilson was making. He was busy pulling drawers out of his file cabinets, but nodded his head to let House know he was listening. "Seen Cuddy today? What's up her ass?" Wilson stopped his search to turn and glare at House. This time, it made its point.

"Leave her alone, House," he growled. Raising an eyebrow, House lifted his cane to poke Wilson in the arm.

"What do you know?" Wilson threw his head back and closed his eyes, attempting to breathe.

"Just…leave her alone. Seriously. She shouldn't have to deal with you right now." House could see Wilson's hands shaking slightly. Something was up. Cuddy had been especially tetchy that morning – even for her – and Wilson was defending her? Since when did his best friend keep anything from him? This must be bad.

"Fine," House said calmly. He got up and went to the door, keeping his gaze away from Wilson. "But when you want to stop being a girl, you know where to find me." He pulled open the door and left, not caring that Wilson had slumped down against the wall, his head in his hands.

* * *

House took the long way back to his office so that he passed by Emily's room. She would be discharged on Friday, and he was not sure how much contact with her he'd have after that. She was lying back in her bed, her eyes on the TV. House stood outside the door, watching her for a while. He couldn't go in and talk to her. They weren't ready for that yet. When he looked at her, he felt something twist in his stomach. Something he'd come to recognize as guilt. He didn't much care for guilt.

Emily shifted in the bed, turning her head to look at her brother. House shifted uncomfortably for a second before finally turning to leave. Emily Watched him go, afraid of what their future would, or wouldn't, become.

The conference room was quiet. He suspected that his ducklings had gone off to take care of their patient. He went back to sit in his office, his eye on the door waiting for Wilson. Sure enough, his friend came glumly into the room and sunk into a chair opposite House. His face was still rosy but his breathing had returned to normal. House sat back patiently, tossing the over-sized tennis ball from hand to hand.

"I said come talk only when you were done being a girl," he said finally, breaking the silence. "And you obviously aren't done pouting." Wilson stuck his chin out, but didn't look into House's eyes.

"I can't believe what I've done," he said so quietly that House almost missed it.

"Did what?" Wilson only shook his head, regretting that he had opened his mouth. "Come on, Wilson." House stopped and thought for a moment. "Is it something to do with Cuddy?"

Wilson's sharp intake of breath should've been enough. His nervously twisting hands should've been enough. Most of all, the sickening knot that had settled into his own stomach should've been enough of an answer for House. Red flags were popping up right in front of his eyes. Had he suddenly become colorblind?

Wilson shook his head again, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Had he notmissed all the obvious signs, House would have stopped. He would have let it go, and let Wilson go back to pretending nothing was wrong. But he was going to find out one way or another.

"Wilson. You can't avoid it forever," he said, mimicking his friend's words perfectly. At last Wilson lifted his eyes and stared directly into House's as he uttered only two words,

"She's pregnant."


	9. Reluctance

"What?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and went back to glaring at his knees.

"Wilson," House tried again. "Who?" Wilson scrunched up his brow, a defiant expression set onto his features. "_Cuddy_?" House asked incredulously. "No way. There is no way Cuddy is pregnant. Who would be insane enough to…well…_you know_. And how did you-" House stopped dead, choking on his words. He stared at his friend, clearly trying to convince himself otherwise. "You…you didn't." Wilson closed his eyes, and leaned forward to rest his head in his hands.

"I did," he whispered. House sat back, completely stunned. Wilson. Cuddy. It was too much for him. The mental images he was getting were too much for him. He got up abruptly and went to the window, listening to Wilson's unsteady breathing from behind him.

"I don't believe it." House was in a state of what he was sure was permanent shock. Sure, Wilson could be construed as a pig, but _Cuddy_? Cuddy was too smart for this. And how long had it been going on? He had so many questions to ask Wilson, but he wasn't really sure he wanted to know the answers.

"It was an accident," Wilson said lamely. House spun around, his eyes wide.

"Oh, yes. Because since this was an accident, no one will care _nearly_ as much!" He knew shouting was unnecessary. It was. But Wilson had brought an entirely new meaning to the word 'disgusting.' Extremely loud voices seemed like a good idea.

"House, please." Wilson had gotten to his feet and the glare had returned. "Do _not_ tell her. If she knew that I had told anybody…Just for once in your life, be nice to her. Don't ruin her reputation."

"Won't hurt yours too much either if I keep my mouth shut," House commented scornfully.

"I'm serious, House." House finally nodded when he saw the nervous look on Wilson's face.

"Fine. Whatever."

"Thank you." Wilson shot House another worried glance before he left. House popped a few too many vicodin and sat back in his chair. He had known that one of these days Wilson was going to screw up badly. .But _this_? This was ridiculous. House glared at the spot where Wilson had been sitting moments before. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' he thought.

"House?"

He looked up, surprised to see Cameron standing over him.

"Oh, Cameron. I didn't…didn't hear you come in." He balanced his cane over his good leg.

"Is everything alright? I just saw Wilson…He looks like hell." She twisted the ring on her thumb subconsciously, leaving a green trail.

"Yeah," House replied half-heartedly. Cameron didn't believe him. She lifted an eyebrow, prompting him to tell the truth. "I'll tell you later," he said quietly, glancing at the door behind her. "Wilson might-"

"Alright. Should I come by your place after work then?" She smirked down at his shocked expression.

"Sure…that sounds…that sounds good." Cameron's smirk grew into a genuine smile as she turned and went into the conference room, once again leaving House alone.

* * *

When House saw Cuddy on his way out after work, he could hardly be blamed for staring. He kept his mouth shut, which didn't do much good since she noticed his eyes lingering on her stomach.

"Can I help you?" She snapped. House stared at her condescendingly for a moment before shrugging and pushing through the doors. He wasn't so sure he liked this Pregnant Cuddy. She was mean.

Cameron showed up at his apartment about three minutes after him, her laptop bad still slung over her shoulder.

"You must be convinced that this is some hot piece of gossip," he said, smirking at her. She returned his smile a dumped her stuff in a pile at the end of the couch.

"It must be, considering that you stayed in your office the rest of the day and Wilson didn't come by once." She thought a moment before adding, "And Cuddy didn't come by to demand clinic hours either…My God. What did you do?" House glared at her.

"Why do people always think I've done something?" She only had to raise her eyebrows to deflect any further grumbling. He limped past her, sat in his chair, and waited until Cameron was comfortable on the couch before he continued. "OK, What I am about to tell you is HIGHLY privileged information. Wilson only told me because he's weak." He sighed and looked down at his fingers. "Wilson was a naughty boy."

"Oh my God, Cuddy's _pregnant_?" she gasped. House stared at her in disbelief.

"How did you figure that out? It took me all of twenty-two minutes."

"It's true, then? I mean. Really. What's gotten into her?"

"Wilson, apparently," he answered, smirking. Cameron gave him an unimpressed look and threw a pillow at him.

"Cuddy just doesn't _do_ things like this. And…_Wilson_? I…I don't believe it."

"Yeah, well, you can't say anything. OK?"

"I swear it," she said, placing her hand over her heart. "So, what are they going to do?"

"I don't know. Wilson needs to accept the fact that he has screwed up. By then the kid will be graduating from pre-school, so I guess it's up to Cuddy." House had effectively told his friend's secret and was now bored. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, flicking through the channels. Cameron rolled her eyes at him and his incapability of compassion. She got up and went to the kitchen to heat up some left over lasagna.

"So," she called from the fridge. "I've been thinking about that benefit." House froze. Maybe if he stayed perfectly quiet, she'd drop it. "Next weekend?" Damn.

"Why?" he asked, as nonchalantly as possible. She came back into the living room with two plates of lasagna and some forks.

"I don't know. I just thought it might be fun to get all dressed up and-"

"What?" House broke in. "Go dancing?" Cameron could feel the hurt in his voice.

"No…no. That's not what I…" She sighed. She knew when to drop it. "Never mind. You're right. It's a stupid idea." House would have loved to just ignore her disappointment. That's how he would normally handle the situation. But the way her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly twisted up a familiar feeling in his gut.

Oh. That's right: guilt.

"Look," he groaned, setting his plate in his lap. "If you want to go…" Cameron looked up expectantly. He cursed every one of the tears he saw her blink back. "I guess we can go," he mumbled. She hopped up and went behind him, wrapping her lanky arms around his neck. She pretended she didn't feel him tense under her.

"It won't be that bad," she said coyly. "I promise. We can make it fun."


	10. His Way

Emily left at exactly nine on Friday morning. House sat in his chair, his back to the door and his I-pod turned up. He pretended that he couldn't hear the gentle rapping on the glass, followed by Cuddy's sharp words, suggesting that House be left alone. The guilt did somersaults in his chest, taunting him for his insecurities. Cameron peeked at him every few minutes just to make sure his was all right. His way of dealing with his sister worried her, but she knew better than to confront him about it. He didn't leave his office all day, mostly to avoid bumping into Wilson or Cuddy. Their problems were just that; theirs. He really did not want to entertain ideas of Wilson _and_ Cuddy. Together. It was fairly disgusting.

House was just zipping up his bag, getting ready to head home for the weekend, when someone tapped him gently on the shoulder. He turned, half-expecting to see Cameron. He was, unfortunately, surprised to find an exhausted Cuddy smiling weakly up at him.

"Oh, Cuddy," he said hesitantly. What did she want? If she was going to ask him for clinic duty that weekend, he'd pretend he'd suddenly gone deaf and hobble out of there as quick as he could. But of all the things he was expecting her to say, one of them was _not_

"I don't know what to do."

Her features had crumbled, giving way to a quivering lip and the tears brimming her eyes. She looked away from House, unsure of how to proceed. House, though, was much more uncomfortable. He had a feeling where this conversation was headed.

"…What?" So, he'd play it dumb, even though he was pretty sure she wouldn't buy it.

"Oh, come off it!" She said loudly. "I know Wilson went crying to you right away." She reached up to wipe away at the tears. "He…I really thought he'd be…different." House couldn't help but chuckle lightly, which was clearly not the appropriate response.

"Cuddy, you know Wilson. Apparently a lot better than we all thought." He stopped to return the vicious glare she was shooting him. "So you should know that he'll just need…time. But you won't get anywhere unless you _talk_ about it."

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" she asked softly,

"Sure. It took sleeping with Wilson to make you aware?" His words hung awkwardly between them. He wasn't quite sure why; how _else_ was Wilson going to get her pregnant? But actually phrasing it into words made it that much more permanent. Cuddy turned from him, but didn't leave.

"He's said I should keep it," she said through her tears. She took a shaky breath before continuing. "But he's not sure he wants to be with me." She waited a moment for her words to sink in before she went back through the doors. House had fully understood what she had meant, and only had room in his head for one word.

'Asshole.'

* * *

House flipped open his cell phone, scowling when he saw the screen. It was the twelfth time that night Wilson had tried to call him, but since he heard what Cuddy had to say, he wasn't sure he could talk to Wilson without screaming obscenities. Cameron had decided to stay at her apartment for the weekend to clean. Of course, that wasn't the real reason, but she wasn't about to tell House that she thought he needed a weekend to himself to deal with Emily's leaving.

House returned into reality at the sound of the answering machine beep. Had the phone been ringing? He listened to the familiar sound of his stepfather's voice recording.

"Hi Greg. It's Mike. Um…I just thought you'd like to know that Emily got home safe. Your mom and I will keep an eye on her, just to make sure she stays that way…She talked about you, Greg." He stopped to let out a shaky breath. "She's grateful, you know. I'm sure she didn't seem so, but she was glad to see you…Thank you…. for reminding her. I think it was time. Your mom…she says hello. I'll…I'll let you know how Emily is doing…Bye Greg"

The messages Mike left were not unfamiliar. Ever since House had left for school, Mike had called once a month, just to let him know that Emily was OK. They had never actually talked; Mike would just leave the messages. This was good, because House wasn't interested listening to Mike remind him that his mother would like to hear from him every now and then.

House stretched his legs out, wishing he could sleep. But he knew the dull throbbing in his right thigh would keep him awake even with vicodin. He flipped through channels on the TV, settling with a late night show. He wished Cameron had been there to talk him into renting a corny movie, staying up late, and just talking and laughing. He was glad that she seemed to be insane. He liked having someone to be with again. He'd always assured himself that he was fine alone, but the truth was that it had made him empty. And Cameron was so full of love; they would fit together perfectly.

House started at the sound of a light knock on his front door. He smiled, knowing who was on the other side. Sure enough, when he swung the door open, there was Cameron, bundled up in her winter gear.

"Sorry," she said, shivering. "I know I said I wasn't going to come over but…" she smiled and shrugged. "I was lonely."

"It's fine," House replied. He stepped aside to let her in. "Would you like something to eat? I'm sure there's still plenty of lasagna left in the fridge."

"No, I'm fine." She'd moved to the couch, watching the television with faked interest. House went back to his chair, swallowing two vicodin on his way. "I…uh…got a call from Cuddy." House shook his head. He didn't doubt what about. "She told me what Wilson said." Her face took on something he was pretty sure was disgust. "I didn't know Wilson was capable…I mean. I thought he'd be more gallant in a situation like this."

"Strangely enough, so did I." House wrapped his fingers around the handle of his cane. "As much as I'm sure everyone will be expecting me to side with Wilson-"

"_Are _you?" Cameron broke in. House glared at her.

"I hadn't finished. I'm not siding with Wilson. He's handling this whole thing like a teenager."

"Poor Cuddy." House looked at her, and realized that he agreed. Poor Cuddy. She hadn't asked for this. She'd probably thought that Wilson cared about her. Stupid Wilson.

Cameron yawned and stretched herself out on the couch. It only took a few minutes for her eyes close. House waited until the end of his show before moving over to her, rubbing his hand gently across her back.

"Cameron," he said softly. "Come on, let's go to bed." She blinked up at him, pressing her palms to her eyes.

"Do you think Wilson know how bad he's hurt her?" she said groggily. House thought for a moment while she stood up and padded down to his bedroom. He still hadn't thought of an answer when he crawled under the covers next to her.

"I think he does," he said slowly. "I think he knows that's he's made a mess of things. He just doesn't know what to do about it."

* * *

The week leading up to the hospital's benefit was incredibly stressful for House. He had finally decided to help out with his team's patient, though he could hardly think when Cameron stared at him like that. She had casually asked him if they were going to go to the benefittogether or separately. He hadn't thought about it, but decided that they'd better show up separately to avoid any awkward questions.

Saturday morning had brought a startling message from Mike. It had been loud and frantic, and definitely carried its point across. Apparently, when Mike had gone to her house to check on her, Emily was missing. Her car was still in the garage, so that ruled out the possibility of grocery shopping. House was terrified, but he tried his best to hide it when he saw Cameron walk into the room at the benefit. She was wearing a burgundy dress that came down to her knees. It was simple, but she looked like a goddess to House. They stayed away from each other for the first few minutes until they couldn't stand it anymore. Cameron walked up to the table where House was sitting and nursing a glass of scotch.

"Dr. House," she breathed, taking a seat across from him,

"Dr. Cameron."

"Did you see Cuddy?" she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper. House looked past her shoulder to the bar, where Cuddy was on what appeared to be not her first beer of the night.

"Someone should warn her that alcohol isn't good for the baby," he said sharply, taking a sip from his drink.

"House, she's…"Cameron's voice disintegrated into nothing as her eyes widened. Her gaze was locked on a couple that had just walked through the doors. House took another swig of the scotch before he turned in his seat to follow her gaze. There was Wilson, a big goofy smile on his face. And on his arm was a familiar young woman with crystal blue eyes.


	11. The Idea

"That son of a bitch," House said darkly. Cameron was still staring at Wilson and Emily, completely horrified. House cast another glance at Cuddy to see if she had noticed Wilson's entrance, and when it was clear that she was oblivious, he got up and marched over to the two of them. Emily saw him coming before Wilson did. She whispered something to Wilson before she left to find a table. Wilson kept his gaze turned to the floor, bracing himself for House's rage.

"What the hell is your problem?" House said, not trying to keep his voice down.

"House, don't-" Wilson stopped short when a pair of pointy shoes came into his view. His gaze traveled up the body, falling into the foggy blue eyes of Lisa Cuddy.

"You are a jackass," she slurred, pointing her finger at him.

"Lisa, I think we need to talk," Wilson said gently, wrapping his fingers around her bony wrist. She struggled, but she had no chance of escape. She soon settled, the look she was giving Wilson getting her anger across to him.House, however, was not going to let him back out of this. His face set into a menacing glare, he whacked Wilson's leg with his cane.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" House yelled. Wilson looked House in the eyes, his grip on Cuddy tightening.

"You don't know anything, Greg," he said sharply. His eyes had darkened, warning House to back off. House's eyes darted over to Emily, who was smirking at him tauntingly.

"No. What I don't know…What I can't even begin to understand is why you are treating Lisa like some shit that you stepped in with your stupid French shoes. Why it is that you can't be bothered to help herafter _your_ stupidity. And now you've moved on to my _sister_?"

"Sister?" Cuddy said, glancing over to where Emily was sitting.

"So," House continued, ignoring her. "Please be so kind and tell me when it was you became such a bastard." By this time the entire room had gone silent, everyone's eyes on the three people by the door. Foreman and Chase had moved over to Cameron's table, all three watching, their jaws dropped. Wilson's face had become bright red with fury.

"You have no right…_no right_, House to be so condescending." Wilson narrowed his eyes, pointing his own finger at the older man. "You think you know how things are. You _think_ you know everything." Wilson thought about continuing, but decided against it, leading Cuddy from the room.

"You're a disgusting pig!" House shouted after him. Shooting Emily a death glare, he returned to his table. Slowly conversation filled the room again as people went on with their night. House didn't say anything to Cameron's worried stare; instead, he downed the rest of his scotch and wiped his mouth on the tablecloth.

"I'm going home," he said abruptly, getting to his feet. Cameron rose with him.

"Do you want me to take you home?" she asked casually, aware of Chase and Foreman listening in. "I don't want you to kill yourself."

"Yeah, sure. It's too cold for the bike now, anyway." Without a word to the other two ducklings, he limped heavily from the room, ignoring Emily, who had kept her eyes on him since she and Wilson had arrived. Slipping on his jacket, he stepped into the bitter cold night, closely followed by Cameron. She led him to her car quickly, before they were entirely numb.

"What's gotten into him lately?" Cameron asked once they'd gotten in the car. She turned the heat on full blast, but her teeth still chattered violently.

"Honestly? I have no idea." He tapped his cane on the floor, trying to slow down his mind. It had been whirling since he had seen Wilson and Emily. Together. That stupid smug grin on his face had permanently etched itself in his brain. And Emily looked so happy on his arm. But what sickened him the most was the way he'd looked at Cuddy. The disgust was so evident, it would've been impossible to miss. Wilson thought that the way _Cuddy_ was handling the situation was disgusting. House shook his head; clearly, he had been a friend to the wrong one.

"Here you go," Cameron said, pulling up in front of House's apartment. House looked up at the darkened windows. It looked so empty.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked, turning back to her. " I mean since I pretty much ruined your night..." Cameron smiled and turned off the ignition.

"Maybe just for a little bit."

Gripping his cane tightly, hegot out,back into the cold, rushing to get to his door. His numbing fingers fumbled with the keys, but he eventually got the door to swing open, stumbling in after it. House switched on the lights, tossing his jacket towards the closet.

"Lasagna?" he asked, smiling. Cameron rolled her eyes as she slipped out of her heels. She followed him into the kitchen, where he was warming up some of the pasta.

"I thought you were kidding," Cameron said incredulously.

"Nope. I swear, it's multiplying in the fridge." He chuckled, setting the plates on the counter. "Hope you don't mind informal." He took a bite, scalding his mouth.

"Brilliant," Cameron smiled, blowing on her own forkful before putting it in her mouth. House glared at her, but started taking her silent advice, blowing on his lasagna first. "I take it you didn't expect to see Emily there tonight," Cameron said carefully. House froze, the fork an inch from his open mouth.

"You sound like you weren't too surprised," he said slowly.Cameron set her fork on the plate, studying her fingers.

"Wilson called me last night. He didn't come right and say who, but he mentioned that he wanted to bring a date." She ran one hand through her hair. "I didn't think for a minute he'd choose to bring…well…" She shrugged, but didn't continue when she saw House's face darkening.

"Someone needs to help Cuddy," he said finally. Cameron's eyes widened, but she went on chewing, and said nothing.

* * *

House chewed his lip as he loaded the dishwasher. Cameron had given up on any hope of a conversation and went to his couch, flipping on the TV. He was right, of course. Someone _did _need to help Cuddy. There was no way she would be able to get through this on her own. In truth, she probably didn't want House's help, but she probably wouldn't object to Cameron's. Drying his hands on a dishtowel, he poured two glasses of wine and joined her on the couch. She looked a little surprised that he had chosen to sit so close to her, but kept her mouth shut. 

"Do you think you could...you know...use your amazing bedside manner and help Cuddy through this?" he asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

"Of course I could." She took a long drink, closing her eyes. "It's good, your idea."

House remembered the look on Cuddy's face when she'd spotted Wilson earlier that evening. She'd looked so hurt, seeing the father of her future child on the arm of another woman. Of _his_ sister. Somehow, that made House feel sick. Like it was his fault.

"I should go," Cameron said after emptying her glass. She glanced at the clock on the wall; it was after one. She set the glass on the table, stretching her arms out in front of her. House took the last drink of his wine and set it next to hers.

"Or you could…stay…"he said quietly. She smiled and took his hand in hers. A smaller smile found its way onto his lips, and didn't disappear.

"OK," she said. House pointed the remote at the TV, turning it off, and lifted her to her feet with him. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, before he broke it, and led her to his bedroom. It was, of course, not her first time in his bed, but it still had all same excitement.

"Tomorrow's Sunday, right?" Cameron whispered.

"Yeah...?"

"Good. One whole day where we don't have to hide anything."

House glanced at her in the darkness, and he could just make out the grin that had taken shape on her lips.


	12. Strawberry Syrup

Cameron woke the next morning, the faint light from the window burning her eyes. It didn't take her long to remember where she was. She rolled over, but was disappointed to see the empty stretch of wrinkled sheets. Straightening the shirt House had lent her, she sat up on the bed, her ears straining to hear any sounds of life in the apartment. Silence. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember what day it was. Sunday. House wouldn't be at work. She gently slid her bare legs over the edge of his bed and cautiously made her way into the living room. She wasn't too surprised to find it empty. She went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. That's when she found his note. Relived that he hadn't just left her, she picked up the piece of paper, her eyes passing over his scrawling words slowly.

_Cameron-_

_Don't worry, I haven't abandoned you. _

_I've just gone out for some breakfast. _

_Don't cook!_

_-House_

_P.S. I think we need to talk._

Cameron reread the last line close to a hundred times. It was _House_ suggesting that they talk? She was surprised but also relieved; she had been afraid to bring up the topic of 'them' for fear of scaring him away. Settling with a glass of water, Cameron went to the couch, flipping on the TV. She had only been entranced by a children's show for fifteen minutes when House staggered through the door. He was laden down with several bags, making walking with his cane even more of a chore than usual.

"Help?" Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow. House didn't say anything, just gave a curt nod. Setting her glass on the table, Cameron got to her feet to take some of the bags from him.

"I didn't think you'd be up yet," he grunted, taking a bag to the kitchen. Cameron followed, holding a bag open for an idea of what was for breakfast. "No peeking," House said over his shoulder.

"You went out for breakfast?" she asked incredulously. She placed her bags on the counter like House had done.

"I figured I owed you. I would've made it myself," he added at her skeptical look. "But I didn't have any breakfast stuff left after you cooked that morning." Cameron brought a hand to her cheek to hide the red creeping onto her face. "Now go back to your cartoons. You're in my way." Smiling playfully, she obeyed, going back to her spot on the couch. Occasionally she'd jump at the sound of pots clattering to the floor, but gave House his dignity and ignored it. He didn't need her help.

"Cameron?" he called after a while. She tore her attention away from the TV and went back into the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, closely examining his fingernails. "We should…talk."

"OK," she said lightly, hopping up on the counter across from him. "About what?" It was stupid question. Of course, she knew what he wanted to talk about. But getting him to say the words seemed like the thing to do.

"About…" He waved his hand vaguely in front him. "This. About…what we're doing." He let out a breath. Those last four words were hard for him to say, to admit. Cameron shoved her hands under her thighs, her gaze locked on House's feet. She tried to think of something to say that would lighten the mood, and wipe away the nervous look that had fallen onto House's face.

"Oh." Brilliant.

"I just think…" He let out another breath, sorting out the words in his mind.

"You want to know if I'm serious?" Cameron ventured. House's hands fell to his side. It was enough of an answer. She stepped forward, close enough so that, should he want to, he could reach out and take her in his arms. "Yes, House. I…I can't think of anything else when you're around. And it scares the _hell_ out of me." The smile was too sincere, too real for her to mistake it. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. "I'm not asking that you move me in with you, or that you stop your teasing at work. I…I just want you to know that you can trust me." House nodded. He knew he could trust her. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb softly under her eye. Cameron's eyes slid closed, and she concentrated on breathing.

"Allison." The sound of his voice, huskily breathing her name, drove Cameron insane. Locking her eyes with his, she placed one arm on either side of his hips, pinning him to the counter. She pressed her body against his, reaching up to connect their lips. She could feel his hesitance at first, but he soon started giving back to her. His hands fell to her waist, pulling her even closer. She smelled of raspberries and vanilla, two scents he'd forever place with her. She pulled away, enough to capture his stare. His usually bright eyes were cloud with passion. Passion for _her_. Cameron cursed her self for breaking away, and moved to press her lips against his once again, but stopped, her nose wrinkling.

"What the hell is _that_?" House took a few sniffs.

"Shit!" He pushed Cameron aside, and turned to a waffle iron she hadn't noticed. Smokey clouds were pouring out the edges, filling the room with a potent odor. House pried the thing open and peeled off the blackened waffle, tossing it in the sink. Turning on the faucet, he faced Cameron, a sheepish grin on his face. "That's your fault," he said accusingly. "You distracted me." Cameron smiled and turned to leave, stopping in the doorway.

"Fine," she said, smirking. "I'll just go back to my cartoons."

* * *

Almost an hour after the near burning down of House's apartment, he finally emerged from the kitchen with two perfectly brown waffles topped with strawberrie syrup. Cameron took her plate eagerly, not bothering with a knife to cut off reasonably sized pieces. House watched her for a few moments in shock; he'd never seen anything so small eat like that before. House shifted in his seat next to her, eying the TV.

"You're a fan of Dora the Explorer?" he asked seriously. She stopped her shoveling long enough to shoot him an angry glare. Lifting his eyebrows, he changed the channel to a news station.

"I can't believe you can cook," Cameron said suddenly, breaking House's attention of the breaking news story on TV. Sure, it was only covering a wild turkey that had been roaming the highway for days, but he still thought it extremely fascinating. He dropped the fork in his lap, leaving a sticky mess. His eyes took in her face, and he noticed a bit of the strawberry syrup on her lip. As much as he wanted to, he could not drag his eyes away from the spot.

"Why does it surprise you?" That damn spot. All he wanted to do was lick it away, but he decided that it might seem a little weird.

"It's just, you're so…" She let out a shaky laugh before continuing. "_Macho_ all the time. I would've thought that cooking was beneath you." He couldn't take it anymore. He hadn't even taken in a word she had said. Leaning forward, he took her bottom lip in his mouth, gently licking away the sweet syrup. Cameron placed a hand on the side if his neck, her fingers tangling with his hair. House blindly set their plates on the coffee table and pushed Cameron to her back. He lowered himself on top of her, his body trapping hers beneath him. Her fingers raked down his chest, dipping below his jeans, and moving back towards his shoulders. One of House's hands had found a home on Cameron's stomach, moving in soft circles under the shirt. The other was busy tenderly exploring Cameron's breasts. Lazily linking her hands behind his neck, Cameron again pulled away. House opened his mouth to protest, grinding his hips against her for emphasis.

"What are you doing?" She asked. House dropped his head to the crook of her neck, kissing her there softly.

"I would've though that was obvious," he answered. His breath was hot on her skin. And suddenly, she didn't care what he was doing, or why. House had made the move, and she was not about to discourage him.

Lifting his head with her hands, Cameron got her lips pressed to his again. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, curiously finding its way around and making itself at home. Cameron tugged on his shirt, urging it off his shoulders. House pulled away so she could slide it off. Then, deciding that this was unfair to him, House looked pointedly at the shirt Cameron was still wearing. Chuckling, she pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor next to House's. He was delighted to see that he didn't have a bra to deal with also. Again capturing her mouth with his, House pressed his body close to hers, enjoying the feeling of their bare flesh mingling. She was warm against him, heat springing to life everywhere their bodies met. His hands ran smoothly down her sides, stopping at the worn panties, the only thing left to remove. Hooking his fingers under the waistband, he pulled them down, letting Cameron kick them away. Now it was Cameron who felt cheated. Sliding her hands down from their position on his shoulders, she set to work on the button and zipper of his jeans. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to help out and kick them away, she settled with pushing them as far down as she could, pooling them around his knees. House involuntarily bucked against her, a moan escaping his lips.

"Are you-"

"Shut up," Cameron breathed, cutting him off.

"Cameron."

"House."

Their eyes locked, all of the electricity between them holding them there. House finally closed his eyes, giving in to her will. Her warm hands traveled between them, closing around the length of him. Cameron smiled at the blissful expression on House's face. Taking a deep breath, she guided him in. House bit his lip, concentrating on what he was doing. Cameron closed her eyes; looking directly into the eyes of the man she loved would've been too much. He found a rhythm that brought the loudest moans from Cameron. The tiny grin playing on her lips was enough to tell him how he was doing. Her arms wrapped around him, gripping his shoulders tightly from behind. They were both close now, their bodies covered in a sheer layer of sweat, their muscles tightening. House moved faster, trying to end this thing they'd started. He felt himself letting go inside of her, Cameron shuddering beneath him. Giving a final thrust, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck. His leg was screaming, but he couldn't be bothered to find his pills.

"It was only a bit of strawberry syrup," House mumbled against her neck.


	13. The Call

They stayed like that, their naked bodies pressed together, basking in the afternoon sun, for most of the day. House managed to grab his pills from the coffee table, taking enough to numb his leg.The TV had been changed back to the mindless children's shows, but they entertained themselves by playing along, and shouting things at the screen. House had never felt so happy as he did with Cameron. Slowly, the fact that she was so much younger than him seemed less important, as did the suspicion that she only liked him because he was damaged.

"I have to pee," Cameron whined, squirming under him. Kissing her forehead, he eased himself off the couch, allowing her to sprint towards the bathroom. He reached for his cane, which was resting at the end of the couch. Pulling his jeans back up around his waist, he followed Cameron's path to his bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes intently on the bathroom door. Seconds later, Cameron emerged, wrapped in one of his huge towels. House gave her a lopsided smile, getting back to his feet. His lips grazed her shoulder, her neck, finally landing on her mouth. His hands snuck under the towel, pulling her bare hips closer to him. He held her there, kissing her softly, until a picture forced it's way into his mind.

Oh shit.

"Cameron?" he asked pulling away from her. Her fingers hooked onto his belt loops, forbidding him to leave her. "I think you should call Cuddy."

"You want me to break the news gently?" she asked him with a playful smirk. Running her fingers through her hair, she smiled at his thoughtfulness. Given the way that House was always mocking Cuddy, it would be impossible to even guess that he would worry about her. "I'll call her after a shower." Sweeping her lips quickly against his neck, she turned back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Cameron sat on the couch, clutching the phone in her hand. House sat next to her, pretending to watch the TV. Cameron had decided to call from her cell phone, just in case Cuddy had caller ID.

"What am I supposed to say?" Cameron asked, staring at the phone unsurely. She knew talking to Cuddy was the right thing to do, but she didn't have any idea how to start.

"Tell her that we offer to tie Wilson up naked and hang him in the lobby to beat like a piñata," House suggested, quickly glancing at her. "No charge. In fact, I'd pay _her_ to let me do it." Cameron rolled her eyes, and shakily scrolled through her saved numbers, pressing send when she found Cuddy's. House took his eyes off the TV, watching Cameron try to control her breathing. She had no reason to be so nervous, but she was slightly worried that she wouldn't know to say to make Cuddy feel better.

"Hello?" Cuddy answered softly. Cameron could hear her shifting, probably settling back on her couch.

"Lisa, it's Allison." Cameron dropped all formalities. Cuddy needed a friend and that was what she was calling as; a friend.

"Allison?" Cuddy paused, trying to place the voice with any Allisons she knew. "Cameron?" Cameron smiled, suddenly feeling stupid.

"Yeah."

"Great. I've actually been meaning to call you,." Her voice had perked up. "You haven't seen Greg this weekend, have you? I've been worrying about him since last night." Cameron blinked a few times, trying to process what she was hearing. She glanced up at the man in question, debating about how to continue.

"Uh...no, Lisa. Sorry, I haven't."

"You're not a very convincing liar." She stopped a moment, thinking. "He's sitting right next to you, isn't he?"Cameron's heart leapt as she pulled the phone away.

"Um," she said stiffly, holding her hand tightly over the mouthpiece. House looked at her curiously, waiting for her to finish. "She's guessed that…I'm here. With you." House closed his eyes, tapping his cane on the floor. If anyone was going to figure this thing out on their own, it was Cuddy. He had just hoped that it would've taken her longer. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and took the phone out of Cameron's hands.

"Cuddy," he said gruffly down the phone. "Displaying your power to read minds isn't exactly doing anything to change my mind about the possibility that you may be a witch."

"What do you want, House?" she asked, a slight note of shock in her voice; she had only been guessing that Cameron was with House.

"I just…" He paused, bringing a hand to his face. "I'm…worried…about you." He said it quietly, almost hoping that she'd missed it.

"Are you _really?_" Cuddy asked, not bothering to hide the disbelief in her voice.

"What…what Wilson did to you…it's not right."

"_Oh_," she exclaimed, comprehension dawning one her. "Yeah. You see…Wilson…" She let out a shaky laugh. "Wilson is _here_. He brought me home last night since I was…well. You saw me." House could hear Wilson's voice behind the silence. House had frozen, feeling like he might puke. Afraid of what could come out if he spoke, House handed then phone back to Cameron.

"Hello?"

"He's given up?" Cuddy asked warmly.

"I guess…" Cameron glanced at House's rigid figure. "…At what?"

"Allison…You guys don't need to worry. Wilson's been here since last night. We've been…talking" The odd note in her voice suggested otherwise, but Cameron wisely chose to ignore it. "In fact, James thinks it might be a good idea to…you know, get together for dinner tonight. To talk." Cameron's stomach churned. After the ordeal at the benefit last night, Cameron wasn't so sure House would ever be willing to 'talk' to Wilson again.

"Sure, Lisa. That sounds like a good idea." House's eyes snapped on her, sensing just what it was she was agreeing to.

"Why don't you come over here, around seven? James thinks he can handle standing in the cold long enough to grill a few steaks." House was waving his arms wildly, begging her not to agree to anything.

"I'd love to see that. See you at seven." A confident smirk forming on her lips, Cameron snapped her phone shut, tossing it on the table.

"_Please_," House said through gritted teeth. "Do not tell me you just did what I think you did."

"We're expected at Cuddy's at seven for steaks," she replied casually. House threw his head back, trying to keep himself from reaching out and smacking her.

"I didn't know it was possible for someone to create more of a disaster than me."


	14. Crème Brûlée

Cameron had gone home to 'find something indecent to wear,' as House had put it. He wanted to rub it in Wilson's face that he got the hotter one. He still hadn't quite figured out Wilson's sudden switch from Cuddy to Emily and back to Cuddy again. He was fully expecting a thorough explanation from Wilson later.

About an hour of scowling at the blank TV later, Cameron honked her horn impatiently outside his apartment. He flicked off the lights, hobbling carefully out to her car.

"I still can't believe you did this," he grumbled as he got in the car. She was wearing a simple cocktail dress that fell low, revealing just enough of her chest. Her auburn curls framed her beautiful face perfectly. House was glad she was his.

"It will be _fine_," she said exasperatedly. "I don't know what you're so worried about. It's just Wilson and Cuddy." House looked at her incredulously.

"Yeah. But do you have any idea what they're gonna want to 'talk' about?" Cameron shook her head as she pulled into traffic. "That's what I thought. You can bet this will be one awkward night." Sitting back in the seat, he crossed his arms, pouting to make his point. "You…look nice, though." He added quietly. Cameron smiled, placing her hand on his thigh and squeezed..

"So do you."

House had become rigid again by the time that they pulled up in front of Cuddy's condo. Almost all the lights were on inside, and they could smell the charcoal on the breeze.

"You _so_ owe me for this," he growled at Cameron, who fell into step beside him.

"Don't worry about it," she said coyly, slipping her arm around his waist. "I'm sure you'll come up with a reasonable payback." Giving him a pointed look, she reached up and kissed him gently before pressing the doorbell. "And for the love of God, House. Be nice." She smirked at him as his arm traveled up her back, settling on her shoulders. He was about to say something in his defense when the door opened, basking them in a warm glow. Cuddy stood there, smiling knowingly. They hadn't bothered dropping their arms, assuming that Cuddy had figured out that they were seeing each other.

"Glad you decided to come," she said, moving aside to let them in. House detached himself from Cameron, standing awkwardly at the base of the stairs. "James!" Cuddy yelled. Wilson's voice could be heard in the back yard, getting louder as he came inside.

"Allison," he said happily, taking her up in a friendly hug. Eyes narrowing, House lifted his cane, beating Wilson in the back of the head.

"Hands off."

"House," Wilson said stiffly, massaging his head. The two locked eyes, daring the other to look away. "I'm sorry, I have to go check the steaks," Wilson mumbled finally, turning down the hallway. Cameron watched him step outside before she smacked House's arm.

"I said be nice!" she half-whispered, as though the slight reduction in her voice would keep Cuddy out of it. "Why do you always have to be such an ass?" House glared at Cameron, glared at Cuddy, who was smirking at the two of them. Increasing the force of his glare, House limped past her and into the adjacent living room. He collapsed in a large armchair, keeping his eyes on Cameron as she crossed the room to the couch.

"So," Cuddy said smoothly. "What have you two been up to this weekend?" She lifted an eyebrow suggestively at House, luckily not seeing Cameron's bright red cheeks.

"Oh, you know…" He shot Cameron an anxious look before continuing. "Hanging out."

* * *

Wilson banged in through the back door about twenty minutes later, bringing the thick smell of charred meat with him. House exaggerated his look of disgust, not bothering to hide it when Wilson came into the living room.

"Dinner's on," Wilson announced. Everyone was able to place that edge in his voice, pairing it with the way Wilson tried too hard to keep his eyes off House. Forcing a smile, Cuddy got to her feet and led her guests to the dining room. The table was set with Cuddy's better dishware, glasses of wine at each place. A plate of blackened steaks sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes and green beans.

"This looks lovely, Lisa…and James," Cameron said politely. House snorted.

The first half of the meal was tense, the conversations held between any three – as long as Wilson and House were not talking together – were brittle and awkward. They veered from the subjects that would cause House and/or Wilson to explode, sticking to the safety topics, such as the hospital or the quickly worsening weather. But it was as Cuddyleft to get the crème brûlée that the inevitable sparks started flying.

"How are you going to feed your family if this is how you cook?" House asked Wilson irritably, poking at his untouched steak. It was the first thing he had said to Wilson all evening. Cameron groaned, bringing her hands to her face. Wilson glared across the table at House, who glared right back.

"I thought it was wonderful," Cameron offered, shooting House a pleading look.

"'Wonderful?' Cameron, did you miss the one inch layer of char on these so-called steaks?" Cameron rolled her eyes, retreating to the kitchen to help Cuddy. "Are you trying to kill us, Wilson?"

"Just stop," Wilson warned. "I am so _sick_ of your arrogance, Greg. So _sick…_."

"Oh. _You're_ sick of _me_?" House almost screamed. He got to his feet, gripping his cane so hard his knuckles had gone white. "You are sick of me. Godly Wilson is sick of _me_. I suppose I have no other choice than to end my life." He flung a dramatic hand across his forehead, feigning despair."Whatever shall I do?"

"Shut up, House!" Wilson yelled,. House dropped his hand, his eyes fixed on Wilson. "What is your problem? Why are you so pissed at me?" House slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead, as though he had just realized how stupid he had been acting.

"Oh you're _right_," House drawled. "I should just forget the fact that you got Cuddy pregnant, threw her to the dogs, brought my _sister_ as your date-"

"House-"

"I'm not finished," House barked. "Brought her as your date to the benefit last night, left _her_ alone, and, on top of all of that, you can't cook worth shit! You're right. How _could_ I be mad at you?" Wilson had closed his eyes, waiting patiently until House was finished with his ranting.

"House," he began calmly. "I did not bring Emily as a date." Wilson cracked an eye open to see how House had taken this piece of information. Satisfied with the speechless reaction, he continued. "She called me yesterday morning to ask if she could come along. She wanted to see _you_, Greg. She had planned on talking to you, even forgiving you, I believe. But after last night…you may actually have to put more effort into it now." House's gaze fell to the floor, then flitted over to the doorway where Cuddy and Cameron were standing with dessert, Cameron looking as stunned as House.

"What about her?" House asked, pointing his thumb towards Cuddy.

"We-"

"We're not really sure," Cuddy cut him off, coming into the room. "We won't get married, not yet. But he's promised to help. As much as he can." She smiled affectionately at Wilson. Suddenly, all the love was too much.

"I think I'm gonna hurl," he said quietly.

"Here, try this first." Cameron leaned over, moving a spoon of crème brûlée towards his mouth. His mouth opened, letting the custard in. The excitement was evident immediately.

"Oh, man, Cuddy. I need that recipe."

"Oh yeah," Wilson chuckled, "I'd love to see you attempt to cook. Your head might explode."

House and Cameron exchanged a secretive look, Cameron learning that House had gotten deeper with her than she'd thought.


	15. Thin Ice

House sat in his office, tossing the tennis ball in the air and catching it. Cameron had called in sick that day, claiming that Wilson's cooking had gotten to her. But House knew that she didn't want to be around when Emily made her appearance that day. She had called while they were at dinner, leaving a teary message on the machine. She expected to stop by the office around noon to 'talk things out.' House was nervous as hell, consequently avoiding everyone who would know it. Although he and Wilson were still treading around each other like you might on thin ice, House was sure Wilson wouldn't give up the chance to poke into his private life.

A slight knock came from the glass door, the ball missing his hand on its way down.

"Hey," Emily said softly, stepping into the room. House stared at her, trying to find his voice. "I don't know if Wilson told you…"

"He told me."

"Oh. Well…" She sighed, but willed herself to continue. "Greg I don't like this. I don't like hating you. Don't you remember…Growing up I always thought you were the greatest guy I knew. I dreamed of growing up to be just like you. And then…well. Then I forgot you. I forgot all those times you took me away from their fighting to go fishing. Or when we'd lie in the back yard, you reading from that stupid book you always carried with you. I _hate_ feeling like I'm not supposed to like you. Yes, what you did was wrong. Yes, I'm not OK with it. But I need you to help me get over it. I need my best friend." House watched her; her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, her shoulders shuddering as she held back the tears. This was his little sister, his friend.

"Em…" House pushed himself to his feet and limped heavily over to her. "Em…I'm going to help you. I'm going to save you. You have me." She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. "I never meant to hurt you, Em."

"I know," she whispered. "But I'm healing."

* * *

Emily left him that afternoon with new hopes. They had agreed that they would keep in touch, and 'not just a few mumbled words over the phone,' as Emily had sternly put it. House was relieved, both because he had his sister back and because he had his friend back. She had always been the only one who could understand them as she was growing up, even through their age difference.

House swung his bag over his shoulder, exiting the hospital for the night. It had been a slow day without Cameron around. Of course, he'd never admit that he'd missed her. House passed Wilson and Cuddy, hand in hand, on the way to his bike. They waved and he ignored them. It would take some getting used to, seeing them together. Whenever he tried to accept it, his brain provided the images of…the procreation of their future child. But he was trying.

The first thing House noticed when he pulled up to the curb in front of his apartment, was that the lights were on, and he could see shadows dancing against the walls. Second, he saw the little white card taped to his door, flapping in the breeze. Smiling, he peeled it off, folding the tape over. Cameron's familiar curly writing flowed across the page.

_You asked if I thought I was serious. If yesterday wasn't enough of an answer, I would like to say now, that yes, House. I _am_ in love with you, and I can't help it. I don't know what to do, and I'm praying you do. Now, if you think you're as serious as me, you can come in. I've got a surprise for you. _

House thought; he _was_ serious about Cameron. He thought that he may even…no. He couldn't think it.

But it was true, wasn't it? He had never thought about Stacy the way he did Cameron. He could never get Cameron out of his head. She was the sweetest person he had ever met, and she made his heart swell. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Allison Cameron.

Almost expecting to walk in and see her naked, House swung the door open tentatively, glancing around. She wasn't there. He went into the bedroom, again opening the door carefully. Nothing. But on the bed, he spotted a small white box with a gaudy red bow. He stepped forward, taking it in his hands. It had another note taped under the bow:

_Open this. _

_Not your surprise!_

Plucking the bow off, he opened the box and found a silver square frame with a picture of Cameron. She was leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her mouth was open in a big, genuinely happy smile. He wondered vaguely what had made her so happy, when he heard a splash from the bathroom. The smile returned; he was quickly guessing what the surprise was. Propping the picture up on his bedside table, House limped as quietly as possible toward the bathroom door. He turned the knob slowly, then pushed it open. He had guessed right; Cameron was lounging in his tub, the bubbles were rapidly vanishing, leaving Cameron uncovered. House clicked the door shut, leaning his cane against it.

"_This_ is my surprise?" he said, faking disappointment. "I wanted a pony!" He was already pulling the shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans.

"How did…How was Emily?" Cameron asked softly. House shrugged, and mumbled something about forgiveness; he was too busy working his pants down over his legs.

"Damn this leg," he muttered. Cameron watched him, almost regretting the idea. But the regret vanished when she saw the gleam in House's eyes as he eased himself on top of her. "I need to tell you something," he whispered against her neck. She nodded, letting him know that he had her attention. "You said that you were scared…of what this was doing to you…"

"But in a good way," she interjected.

"…But in a good way. I thought you should know…that I'm freaked out about what you do to me. You've…you've saved me Allison. I…No one has ever done that to me before. And I…" He let out a frustrated sigh against her skin. He knew what he wanted to say. But the words would not come to him.

"I love you, too, House."

The End

* * *

**ok everyone-that's it. i'm so sorry that this is THE crappiest ending ever. anyway. i hope you liked the REST of the fic. let me know if you liked it enough that you'd be interested if i wrote more. i had so much fun writing this, and am now depressed that it's over. mostly just because i'm don't know if i'll be able to come up with a slightly-no-so-mind-numblingly-dull plot. but i'll try...if you want it. REVIEW! ha. please? well. thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed. **

**-Claire**


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